


Haunted by Ghosts of the Past (Alone Together)

by Talinor



Series: Keitor Week 2017 [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Blade of Marmora Lotor (Voltron), Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forehead Touching, M/M, Referenced Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 19:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12613744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talinor/pseuds/Talinor
Summary: Keitor Week- Day 6: SolitudeVictory or death.Knowledge or death.The Galra certainly had some obsession with death.





	Haunted by Ghosts of the Past (Alone Together)

**Author's Note:**

> listen..,,.  
> i Love BoM Lotor   
> I had to write it at least once  
> enjoy!

_Victory or death._

 

_Knowledge or death._

 

The Galra certainly had some obsession with death. Some deep-rooted fascination with only the worst alternative as the result's other option. At first Keith thought it was just the Empire's deal- the result of ten eons of being under a seemingly godlike dictator's reign.

 

Turns out, that wasn't the case. That rule of thumb seemed to apply to the Blade of Marmora too. In the Blade, individuality didn't much matter. As long as you died for something important to further their cause against the Empire, you were regarded in brief passing as 'dying well'. You were left where you lay and most of your team members would nonchalantly step over your body if it was in their way.

 

It was... a bit jarring to get used to, at first. He hadn't managed to step back and keep that objective mindset of 'victory at any cost' for very long. Each new loss on a mission still stung hot and heavy as the first. Ulaz, Thace, Regis, dozens of other various names and faces... even after nearly a _year_ of being in the Blades now, he still saw each of their faces in the hollows of his eyelids whenever he managed to close his eyes. 

 

Every night, he saw all of them standing around him in a circle, putting him involuntarily in the center. Each of them staring at him with eagle-eyed intensity. Unblinking. Unmoving. Unbreathing. No matter what he tried, they always stayed stock still in their spots. When he reached out to touch any of them, his hand merely passed through like colored air. That only confirmed what they were- ghosts of his past failures, doomed to haunt him for what felt like forever.

 

This night started out no different.

 

Keith shuffled to his cot in the Blade base like a zombie, physically and emotionally _exhausted_ after another recon mission with yet another fatality. A recruit even younger than him, eager to serve but still more realistic than optimistic. One who knew they couldn't get to the ship in time with some heavy lacerations from an Empire Commander's blade, so they threw the small data drive in instead. He watched in horror as they accepted their fate and suffocated in the merciless vacuum of space.

 

His muscles screamed their sore condition with every slight movement. His strength was sapped for the moment. He found himself locked in a different kind of fight as he walked through the quiet halls- just keeping his eyes open long enough to actually get to his bare quarters. For once, he fell asleep pretty damn quickly. In fact, he was fast asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

 

And once again, he found himself stuck in the center of the vicious cycle his mind seemed determined to torment him with. It was a little bit wider this time, a new apparition joining their ranks. Another soul to stare at him blankly. Another voice drowned out and forever silenced. Another lifeless face etched into his dreams, unfairly reincarnated only in his mind.

 

Standing in the center of it all, feeling the emotional burden of seeing all of their faces night after night get a bit heavier, Keith came to a realization. He had no team at his back, barely even saw them anymore with both of their parallel responsibilities filling up their schedules. The Blade barely cared if he lived or died so long as he did either of those things efficiently. He finally realized the heavy shroud over his entire being. Years old and thickening over time, separating him from any he held dear on the foundations of a basic fear- being abandoned.

 

Only in that moment did he really realize it.

 

Funny. Only when there were literally people all around him did he notice he's never felt more alone in his entire life.

 

In that moment, something started to crack in Keith. The faces started to ebb away, fading back into the darkness where they came from. The strength of his feelings keeping him tortured by their spectral presence in his night hours began to go with them too.

 

After all, what was the point of them? His guilty conscience now would do absolutely nothing to save or even help them now. All these little dreams did was hinder him, weaken him. In turn, he weakened the Blade. He weakened their efforts, their shared cause with Voltron. The same thing happened there too. The only difference was this time he wasn't going to sit idly and let himself become an easily replaceable liability.

 

Maybe he really was looking at it all wrong. Maybe it wasn't the Blades, a thousand year old professional rebel organization, that needed to be changed or fixed. Maybe it was _him._ Maybe he needed to finally grow up into his new role in the Universe and just... let go of it all.

 

Or maybe that outlook was just his way of coping with the weight of a world's worth of loneliness heaped solely on his shoulders. Him being aware of it just made it worse.

 

 _Keith..._ a familiar voice echoed through the cavernous depths of his unconscious mind. It grew louder as the 'ground' below him started to rumble. _Keith, I beg your pardon, but--_

 

His eyes finally opened to meet the person he expected to see the least sitting at the foot of his dingy little cot. A person he knew had joined the Blade a month or so back, but one he purposely rarely spoke to. They barely even passed in the halls.

 

"Lotor," he breathed groggily, sitting up immediately. "What're you _doing_ here?"

 

The former prince of the Galra Empire had his long hair pulled up, as he usually did these days. He wore his Blade uniform as they all usually did, but something felt... _off_ about it this time. Like there was something else to it that Lotor was trying to hide from him so far. 

 

"My apologies for waking you," He gave Keith a soft sympathetic smile. "But I heard about what happened today with Yrtzh. I... know this is not the Blade's traditional way, but I know how hard this must be hitting you, and I'm sorry for the loss of such a promising person." He raised a brow. "How are you feeling? I know we're not on the best terms, but I'm here in case you wish to talk about it."

 

"I'm fine," Keith lied curtly. "Just... tired, is all." He raised a brow. "I wouldn't take you for the sentimental type, though. How are you feeling about all this?"

 

Lotor chuckled halfheartedly. "I don't blame you for that assumption. Most other people I meet make it at first," he said with a shrug. "But I am not a robot like my father, Keith. I remember the dead. I _honor_ them." He scoffed with a subtle hint of bitterness. "It's likely their memory makes better company than the 'living' around here, anyways."

 

Keith couldn't help but get a bit curious at that last statement. He shifted into a more comfortable sitting position and raised a brow. "What do you mean by that?"

 

"I mean," he struggled with the right words, then sighed in slight frustration. "The people around here, I wouldn't necessarily call 'living'. Most of them would be considered 'fragmented' in old Galran mythos. They're disconnected from being whole- their minds and bodies are intact, but their _souls?"_ He shook his head. "Gone. Consciously separated from any action they take. Emotionally dead, or very close to it." 

 

Lotor leaned back a bit and continued. Keith found himself listening raptly. "Without a soul, some form of individualistic _drive_ in this war, they're just ghosts with bodies that haven't quite caught up yet. It makes us barely better than my father's alternative." He cast his eyes down. "Honestly... It feels as though I'm the only one who realizes that, though. Who feels like an alive soul walking amongst a legion of dead day by day. Who just feels so..."

 

"...Alone." Keith finished for him. A part of him relished in the unabashed surprise he caught on Lotor's face at such a simple word.

 

The former prince's thin white brows raised slightly. "...Ah," he said, a hint of a smile ghosting on his lips. "It appears I might not be as alone as I previously thought." He tentatively put his hand on top of Keith's and leaned toward him a bit. Keith let him. "...I know we're not on the best of terms. In truth, I can hardly blame you for that." He cracked an actual smile now. "I wouldn't have trusted me much a couple of months ago either. But may I ask something of you?"

 

Despite himself, Keith found himself leaning slowly towards Lotor. He hovered in the former prince's little atmosphere, close but not too close to be uncomfortable. "Depends," he said softly, barely above a whisper. "What would it be?"

 

"Let's make sure the other stays whole," Lotor rested his forehead against Keith's, eyes fluttering shut. "No matter the Blade's policy. I'll make sure you never succumb to their ruthless calculus if you do the same for me. After all," when his eyes opened to look squarely in Keith's own, they held a sparkling hint of promise. A spark of rekindled will. One Keith couldn't help but wish to keep and emulate for himself. "We can manage to be alone _together,_ can we not?"

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always appreciated!  
> my tumblr: squishy--squish


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